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庄伟杰
Weijie Zhuang

庄伟杰,闽南人,旅澳诗人作家、评论家、书法家、文学博士。毕业于福建师范大学中文系,北京大学中文系访问学者,复旦大学博士后。1989年底赴澳洲留学并定居。现为华侨大学华文学院教授,暨南大学兼职研究员,并任国际华文出版社社长兼总编,中外散文诗学会副主席。曾获第十三届“冰心奖”理论贡献奖等多项文艺奖,作品及论文入选上百种版本,有诗作编入大学教材《海外华文文学读本》。至今出版专著有诗、文、论和书法等10多部,主编各种著作50多部。

Weijie Zhuang, originally from southern Fujian in China, is a poet, writer, critic, calligrapher and Phd of literature residing in Australia. He graduated from Fujian Normal University majoring in Chinese language and literature, and is the visiting scholar of the Beijing University. He obtained post-doctoral position in Fudan University. He is now the professor of Chinese Department of Huaqiao University, part-time researcher of Jinan University, president and editor-in-chief of The International Chinese Press, and president of Australia Chinese Poets Association. He won a number of literary awards, such as the Theory Contribution Award of the 13th Bingxin Prize. His works and papers are included in hundreds of editions. Some of his poems have been included in Overseas Chinese Literature Reader. He has published more than ten books of poems, essays and papers and has been the chief editor for more than 50 books.



译者
Translator


庄伟杰
Weijie Zhuang

买醉街头

Drunk in the Street

梦想张开翅膀 放飞 在城市上空 踮起脚尖 翘首 胸中之竹跟着拔节 一尾鱼的欲望 穿过城市的腹部 在灯火阑珊处 游荡 泛起一串流浪的水波 深夜 买醉街头 星光也醉 左一撇 右一捺 在归来的路上 记忆

 

Dream spreads its wings Flying in the sky above the city Standing on tiptoe, I raise my head The bamboo in my chest begins to grow The desire of a fish Travels through the belly of the city Lingering in the dim lights Rolling up a string of wandering ripples Late at night, I stand drunk on the street The starlight is also drunk One stroke left and one stroke right Making my way home that cannot last long.

听茶

Listen to Tea

从茶中聆听天籁 你招摇的 语词 让我依稀读到某种 张扬着茶色芬芳的预言 像睡醒后拉开窗帘 浸染光的 强度触摸 之后安然静坐 一边轻掸衣尘 独自对话 一边用清泉 沏泡刚刚收藏的 记忆 茶汤里泛起微笑的光波 照亮 轮回的际遇 倾听时间流转的吟哦 一朵茶花 在连绵高地 如涟漪轻漾香气碎语 舒缓心空 盘旋化蝶翻飞的回声

 

The sound of heaven is in tea your erudite words make me read vaguely a florid prophecy in liquid color As if awoken I'd opened the curtains contaminated by a strong push of light and then sat still talking to myself dusting off my dress using a clear spring to steep a pot of freshly collected memory Ripples of smile are in the tea Illuminating the wheel of samsara Listen to time's roaming chant a tea flower on mountain tops like rolling fragrant whispers Soothing the empty heart the echo of swirling butterfly wings

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